


I'm Already Six Feet Under (Can't You See?)

by bluemoongirl99



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Allison dies in the fic, Attempted Suicide, Blood, Cutting, Depression, Drug Abuse, Explicit Self-Harm, Gore, Graphic Torture, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Injured Character, M/M, Mild drug addiction, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overdose, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Spark Stiles, Stabbing, Suicide, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, different allison death, i'm exposing my blood kink guys, mild narcotic/pain killer addiction, post season 3B, ptsd symptoms mentioned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-03 01:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13330278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluemoongirl99/pseuds/bluemoongirl99
Summary: He tossed his backpack on his shoulder, and picked up his phone when he caught it glinting at the reflection of the sun through his window. When he picked it up, the screen flashed.No missed calls.No new messages.Stiles’s quick intake of breath tasted sour in his own mouth. He had been right: he had nobody to call.Because Scott had Isaac.Allison had Lydia.Erica and Boyd were dead.His Dad was disappointed in him.And Derek had left.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neonmoonlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonmoonlight/gifts).



> I don't know why I'm starting this when I have so many other unfinished fics I need to work on, but this is the one I'm passionate about right now, so oh well!
> 
> I planned all of this out today in my notebook while I should have been paying attention to class. But who needs college, right? Also instead of passing out as soon as I got home from work tonight I finished this first chapter and edited it (it's almost 1am and I've been up since 7am so if there's any mistakes please tell me.)
> 
> I'm excited to get this angst fest on the road. Don't worry, they'll be a happy ending of course!
> 
> This is set in a universe that I created with [ Sage ](http://www.grapesodalou.tumblr.com) (well not really a universe, just stupid werewolf ideas we had that go past Jeff Davis's canon because he sucks at writing). He's my best friend and I've never been more grateful to have someone in my life. He's also writing an angst fest fic with some of the same details, so I'll definitely link you guys to it when he finishes it and publishes. 
> 
> I hope you guys like this little beginning! Please, please, please leave lots of comments because it makes me excited to continue!

_one._

Derek had left. 

Cora had told him about her pack in South America; how they were stable, large, and hadn’t had any supernatural attacks in years. And that was all she wrote. Derek had packed up his loft and left. He left with Cora, and he never even said goodbye. 

The following week was when Stiles attempted for the first time. The two events weren’t mutually exclusive, at least, Stiles didn’t think so at the time. 

He had just woken up from another one of his nightmares, the kind that made him shake, and sick to his stomach. He reached for one of his books on his nightstand, desperately. His fingers slipped as he turned the pages and scanned over the words. His heart was stuttering in his chest as they rested on a sentence. As the words resonated, he let the book fall to the floor, and curled up with his knees pressed against his chest. He swiped at the sweat that had gathered on his forehead and upper lip, and cringed when his hand came away from his back wet, and sticky. 

“You’re awake,” he found himself muttering. “You’re awake, and you’re real.” His voice was cracked and his tongue felt like cotton. He couldn’t get the Nogitsune’s burned, decayed face out of his mind, nor the dirty bandages and the film they left, off his skin. 

He walked to his bathroom on autopilot with weak limbs. He turned the shower up as far as it could go, and mechanically stripped out of his t-shirt and sweatpants. 

When he stepped into the shower, he let the steaming hot water rush over his body. He tugged his hands down his face, trying to scrub the water along it, and let them run down the rest of his body. They froze over his hips, and traced over the bones jutting out sharply. Had his hip bones always been that prominent? He scaled them back up his torso, and along his ribs. They weren’t sticking out quite like his hips, but they were enough for him to be startled. 

Before even reaching for any soap, he turned off the faucet, and let his legs guide him into a sitting position on the bathtub floor. He sat in the water and tried to will his hands to stop shaking. 

He sat, mesmerized by the water sloshing around him, and shivered as the water turned cold. He was close to getting out when he glanced down at his hands, but this time they were covered in blood. He jumped back, and noticed how all of the water was now a murky red, swirling with all the blood dripping from his hands. He let out a choked scream. 

_No._ He screamed desperately in his head. _Not again. This can’t be happening again._ He jerked back, and tried to scramble for purchase along the wet porcelain of his tub before he slipped and cracked the back of his head on the faucet. He let out a gasp as he saw stars clouding his vision. When he blinked, he saw that the water was fine. His hands were their usual beige gray, and the water was cloudy, but not red. 

Stiles’s head throbbed, but when he reached back to feel it, that’s when his hand turned red, for real. He rubbed the blood between his fingers almost subconsciously. It was warm and thin, thinner than he was expecting. 

As carefully as he could, he stood up and got out of the tub. He wrapped a towel around himself and padded back into his bedroom to call someone. He would need to go to the hospital, and he knew with a head injury he wouldn’t be able to drive himself. 

He called Scott three times. 

He didn’t pick up.

He called Isaac. 

He didn’t pick up. 

His thumb hovered over his Dad’s number, but then remembered all the sick leave he had to take when the Nogitsune was still in the back of his brain, and how he had only just gotten back on his feet at work. The feet he was knocked off of because of Stiles not being able to stay out of trouble for one goddamn minute. 

When he closed out of his Dad’s contact he realized - he had nobody else to call. Allison certainly wouldn’t pick up any of his calls, and wouldn’t do him any favors, unless she was trying to get into Scott’s good graces again. But with the way they’d been ignoring each other in the hallways, and the small secret smiles Scott and Isaac had been giving each other lately, that was doubtful.

And Lydia, well, she had just started acknowledging Stiles’s mere existence about five minutes ago, so she was probably out of the question too. 

For a second Stiles ached to call Erica. She was easy to be around when she dropped her confident girl facade, and she understood most of his comic book jokes. She would pick him up with an annoyed eye roll, even though they weren’t very close, and Stiles wasn’t very nice to her before she got bitten. 

And he couldn’t call Derek, because Derek had left.

He sat his phone back onto his nightstand carefully, and stumbled back into his bathroom. He ran his fingers through his hair, and over the back of his neck, feeling the blood drip sluggishly slow. He watched in the mirror as the blood smeared along his neck and over his hands. He stared down at it and it was like a jolt went through his body at how nice it felt to have physical pain. The blood was a physical manifestation of what he was feeling. It was tangible, and not just in his head. 

His next thoughts were jumbled and crooked. They didn’t make any sense, and didn’t seem to fit into a cohesive narrative. His fingers acted on autopilot as they stumbled, clumsily pulling out his pair of clippers from the drawer under his sink. He got the screws out hastily with a stray pencil he found on the floor. He didn’t even know how it got there, but he didn’t really care. 

He pulled the straight razor free and it was kind of nice. The clippers he used to buzz his hair whenever he felt too small in his skin were now serving a new purpose. He climbed back into the bathtub. It was wet, but all the excess water had already gone down the drain. He stared at the razor for a minute before pressing it against his leg. 

The pain was white hot, and the sharpest thing he’d ever felt. He imagined briefly that they were claws as he slashed a line in his thigh, and watched the blood swell up and dribble out. He started laughing maniacally as he cut another line, and then another, and another. As he heard his voice echo across the tiles of his bathroom, he wondered if this was the moment that he had truly cracked. 

He continued to slash away at his thighs until he started to feel woozy. The blood oozing from his head had mostly stopped, but his legs were still painting the bathtub beneath him red. His fingers had started to slip and he dropped the razor. It was okay though, his head had started to get foggy and the light on the ceiling had suddenly got a lot dimmer. 

Stiles slid further down into the bathtub until he was practically laying flat. His gangly limbs were finally relaxed, and he felt tired, but like he could actually fall asleep this time, instead of the wide-awake-exhaustion he had been feeling every night ever since the Nogitsune. A voice in the back of his head was panicking and screaming at him that he shouldn’t be falling asleep, especially not with how much blood was pooling beneath him, and seeping down the drain. But the voice was far away and hard to focus on. 

He groggily opened his eyes - when did he close them? He gasped as he felt a buzzing start underneath his skin. It was warm and soft, and he hadn’t felt it since he had created the mountain ash barrier back at The Jungle. He remembered what Deaton had said about him being a Spark. But it didn’t make any sense, he just wanted to sleep. 

He let the warm buzzing glow lull him to sleep. 

***

When he woke up the light was too bright, and his body was consumed by an overall pain. He felt worse than any hangover he had ever imagined. When he got enough strength to sit up he cringed at the blood that caked most of his body and the bathtub. He looked like a murder victim on a cheap crime show. 

He stared down at his legs, and tried to get over the pounding in his head. 

After taking a deep breath, he cleared his mind and tried to not to think about anything that had happened in the past few hours. He picked up the razor, and sat it on the floor outside the tub and stood up. He turned on the water, and ignored the cold blast shocking his skin, and stinging at all his fresh wounds. He took a shower and used an old towel to wipe down his body. 

He used the first aid kit he kept in his bathroom to wrap up his legs with gauze and clean them, clinically. He got dressed and shifted from foot to foot, wincing at the sharp slices of pain that racked through him at the movement, then shivered from it. He stared at the sun rising outside his window and swallowed down the bitter bile in the back of his throat at the disappointment of waking up. 

He tossed his backpack on his shoulder, and picked up his phone when he caught it glinting at the reflection of the sun through his window. When he picked it up, the screen flashed.

_No missed calls._

_No new messages._

Stiles’s quick intake of breath tasted sour in his own mouth. He had been right: he had nobody to call. 

Because Scott had Isaac.

Allison had Lydia.

Erica and Boyd were dead.

His Dad was disappointed in him.

And Derek had left.


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm hoping to pump this out real quick, so that I can get it out of my wip folder. How are you liking it so far, any predictions? Leave some comments please! My goal is to publish one chapter a week until it's done. But it might take a little longer because I have school and work full time. But I'm trying!
> 
> This is also unbetaed, so please point out any mistakes and I'll try to fix it. Though when it's all finished I'll get my beta to look over it and I'll rework the structure of this to post it as all one work instead of chaptered. I've also added some tags, some of it applies to this chapter, other stuff applies to the chapters I have mostly planned out coming forward. But I'm definitely open to suggestions if you guys have any ideas! But please check out the tags, they might be changing every time I upload a chapter.
> 
> I think that's all for me. And again, your comments keep me going to keep them up!

_two._

The second time Stiles almost died, was just as unplanned. And Derek was still gone. 

Allison was dead now too. He imagined them all in a lineup, their yearbook smiling photos all next to each other, but with a red x through Boyd’s picture, Erica’s, and now Allison’s too. 

They had known a new coven of witches were in town, but they were supposed to be peaceful. They were supposed to be like them: supernatural, but not evil. But their leader had the great idea that sacrificing virgins to the nemeton would increase her power exponentially, and well, who in Beacon Hills wasn’t power hungry anymore? 

Stiles got drug out into the preserve with Scott, Allison, Isaac, and Lydia. Stiles tried to use his Spark, but the witches were throwing around spells that he had never heard of. He did his best to keep up, but he was drowning, quickly. Isaac and Scott were of little help, and already useless due to the witches magic. Stiles had to bite back that maybe they shouldn’t just jump right into anything evil considering half their team had well-known, very exploitable weaknesses. 

“I believe.” Stiles whispered as he felt the familiar tingling in his chest and fingertips. It had become his mantra of sorts. Believing that your Spark would work was the most important, and one of the few guidelines that Deaton had pushed when he gave Stiles his Spark 101. 

He zapped out of bit of lightning that took out three of the witches, but there was still four going strong. The action left him winded though. He wasn’t trained or experienced enough to ration out his spark, so great exercises of his power were few and far between. He slouched over and tried to get his breath back. 

He glanced frantically back at the rest of the group. Scott and Isaac were still fighting against their wolfsbane circles, and the scent of burning flesh was pungent in the air. Lydia was spouting Latin right back at the witches, who didn’t seem to be taking it too kindly. 

“Stiles!” He heard his name ring through the air. It was Scott. “Do something!”

Stiles took a deep breath and focused his energy on the coven. He could feel his spark dimming, but Scott was right. He was their big player at the moment and he’d barely done anything. He stepped out from behind the tree he was using as cover, and raised his hands, sending a blast in the direction of the two other witches off to the side. 

The two witches, who looked eerily similar, _twins_ , Stiles thought distantly met him right back with an energy spell, soaking up all of his flame. Stiles gasped, and fell to his knees, his hands and forearms digging into the earth. He was going to die. They didn’t have the strength or the numbers. His hands were numb from the snow and ice. With each breath he took he could see it puff out in front of him, and his nose was running angrily. 

For a moment his heart twisted sharply at how much he missed Derek. Right now was when Derek would come rolling in. He wouldn’t really have a plan either, but he’d be so angry and eager to fight that it would seep all the righteousness and fire right back into Stiles’s bones. But Derek wasn’t there anymore. Derek had left. So they were going to die. 

“Stiles!” Stiles threw his head up as his name was screeched only a few feet away. One of the witches had Allison. She held her with her arm locked around Allison’s shoulder and throat in a vice grip, making it nearly impossible for her to escape. Allison was looking right at him, desperately. 

“C’mon Stiles,” she said, her voice choking. “I believe in you.” 

Stiles pulled himself up so he was straight on his knees. He had mud and snow smeared all over his arms. He snarled and used the last of his strength to push out his own magic. He held his breath, and felt the vein popping in his forehead as he pushed. His magic shined, and lit up his hands for a moment before petering out. Stiles stared at his hands in shock and horror as he tried to do some form of a spell. Anything. But it didn’t work. 

His eyes met Allison’s briefly, they were wide and terrified, probably matching his own. Then the witch cackled. She was the leader, with long tangled honey blonde hair, and lengthy sharp nails. “Looks like your poor Sparky has burned out,” she taunted before pouting her lips. 

Stiles scrambled to stand up, and wildly attempted to make a go at them. His brain was fried, and his chest was empty, from where his Spark usually settled, keeping it warm and abuzz, but now it had short-circuited. He didn’t even know what he was thinking at that point, like blindly charging at the witch was going to work, or do anything at all. 

The leader, Maggie, Stiles remembered her introducing herself faintly, only laughed once again, then used her long pointed nail to slit Alison’s throat. 

By the time Stiles had managed to make it to the witch, Allison was dropping, and she ended up falling into Stiles’s arms. Her neck was oozing blood. Stiles didn’t know what to do, he wasn’t trained for this. He pressed his hand against the cut to try and stop the bleeding, but there was so much blood. It was all over his hands, and clothes, and Allison was making these awful gurgling sounds that he knew he was going to be hearing in his nightmares for years. 

Allison’s hands and arms were twitching, grabbing onto any part of Stiles she could, but she couldn’t breathe. A few feet away he heard Lydia’s blood-curdling scream of Allison’s name, a few moments later she went limp. Suddenly he was being tackled and thrown away from Allison’s body. Scott gathered her body in his arms and started yelling.

Stiles could barely hear anything. When he landed he caught himself by the wrist, bending it at an unnatural angle that sent a pain so sharp up through his arm that he bit back a scream. It was hard to breathe, and his torso hurt so bad that he was pretty sure he had broken a rib as well. 

Everyone crowded around Allison’s body. The grayish murky white ground was splattered with red blood, and Stiles could feel it caking under his nails. He started to sweat over how much his wrist and body hurt.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, cradling his wrist, but his trance was broken by Melissa calling his name. 

His head snapped up, and he saw Melissa standing in front of him. Her face was nothing but concerned as she knelt down, then her hand came up to rest on Stiles’s shoulder. “Are you hurt?” Stiles stared up at her, he felt like he was underwater, and he could barely hear her. 

“My wrist,” he heard himself say, more than he consciously remembered saying it. 

Melissa grabbed his hand, and he wanted to flinch at how the blood smeared all over her. He was covered in blood. Allison’s blood. 

“Stiles!” Melissa suddenly yelled in alarm. Why was she shouting? “Your wrist is broken. We’re going to have to take you to the hospital.” 

Stiles’s head was pounding and he could barely figure out what was going on. He wondered if he stuck three fingers in front of his face, could he count them? He wanted to laugh at his joke, but the sound that came out must have been twisted or broken because Melissa suddenly looked very scared. 

Her hands disappeared in front of him, and he felt a sharp pressure on the back of his head, where most of the pounding was coming from. When his eyes focused enough he saw Melissa holding her hands out in front of her, but they were covered in blood, way more blood than they had been a few seconds before. 

When Scott and Stiles were twelve they had been trying to climb a tree in the McCall’s backyard, when Scott fell and broke his leg. They had to call an ambulance and go to the hospital. Melissa was on shift that day, and Stiles remembered her busting into the room that they had just finished doing x-rays in, and how terrified she was. Later they found out that while she was on shift she found out that Scott had been taken in an ambulance, and that he had been admitted, but knew nothing else. 

Looking at her face now though, she didn’t look scared, she looked petrified. “Stiles!” She breathed out.

Stiles didn’t understand why she was so worried, until it clicked. He blinked through the cotton slowly filling his head. The blood on her hands wasn’t Allison’s, it was his. 

“Oh,” he said faintly before a sharp metallic taste flooded his tongue. _When did he hit his head?_ He wondered, before everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comment, comment, comment!
> 
> twitter: @bluemoongirl99
> 
> tumblr: babyashleym

**Author's Note:**

> yo, yo, yo
> 
> tumblr: babyashleym
> 
> twitter: @BlueMoonGirl_AM


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